All That Glitters
by Q Bone
Summary: In which Selina Kyle, aka Gotham's most aspired cat burglar, decides having a mini-me wouldn't such a bad idea. Lucky, one just so happens to break in her apartment. Eventual Platonic Robin/OC


**Summary:** In which Selina Kyle, aka Gotham's most aspired cat burglar, decides having a mini-me wouldn't such a bad idea. Lucky, one just so happens to break in her apartment. Eventual Platonic Robin/OC

**(A/N): **Hey, fellow YJ lovers! Being an avid Catwoman fan, I decided to give her a protégé and stick them in the YJ world. Now, for comic readers out there, yes, I know there is already a canon Catgirl named Kitrina Falcone in the main DCU. However, seeing as YJ takes place on Earth-16 and therefore there is a strong chance she does not exist…well, I'm taking liberties and making a new character. If by the off chance she is written into YJ in the future…well then I'll just have to cross that bridge when it comes, yeah? Bah, I'm rambling. Anyway, here ya go.

All That Glitters

**Prologue**

It was like a graduation exam.

The Clear Creek Crown had been put on display in Gotham's Museum of Fine Arts, a showing personally funded by the city's own Bruce Wayne. Why the billionaire playboy would foot the bill for such a pricy display was a complete mystery- but Rachel Stern wasn't in the business of solving mysteries.

There was nothing like the Crown. It was incrusted with a single piece of pure four carat green Jadeite, making its estimated value somewhere around twelve million dollars. It had been flown in from Guatemala along with its paranoid owner, a collector by the name of Solomon Keen. Keen was a short, stubbish man with a pigish face a lot of money due to his illegal operations in Third World drug/human trafficking. To the public eye, however, he was nothing short of an esteemed businessman who likened to private investments, owning a considerable share in Wayne Enterprises.

In order to appease his piggy tastes, he insisted his Crown have the upmost protection. On top of the provided support from the GCPD, he smuggled in a dozen Brazilian mercenaries to guard the Crown at all hours, posing as personal escort. On top of the Museum's normal security systems (a standard alarm and laser movement sensors around showcases), double security cameras had been put in place, as well as an advanced, pressure activated showcase system to hold the Crown itself. Wayne had assured Keen during the public opening that the system was impenetrable.

Rachel never knew the rich boy was the joking type.

The night of the job had been planned out of weeks. Countless hours had gone into studying blueprints, planning multiple escape routes, extra training, and securing a buyer up front.

"The Museum's gift shop has a glass pane roof- your best bet is through there, then up the maintenance shafts to the third floor." Selena Kyle had said, looking over her shoulder one night.

Rachel nearly jumped ten feet in the air. "You enjoy sneaking up on me, don't you?"

The infamous cat burglar ran her fingers through the teen's short brown hair. "I can't help it if this kitty is light on her feet."

"Yeah, _sure_." Rachel huffed. "One of these days that kitty's going to loose a life if she keeps at it."

"Good thing she has nine of them then." Selena purred with a chuckle.

Rachel looked back down at the schematics in front of her. "I was thinking of going up the elevator shaft."

Selena looked down at the plans. "Then you'd have to cut off its power- you never know when a stray current or two could run down it."

"I'll look into it."

Selena looked at her protégé, eyes softening for a small moment. "Just promise me you'll be careful, alright?"

"What? I'm always careful." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"_Promise_." The older woman pushed, looking her in the eyes. "I'm allowed to be worried some of the time, aren't I?"

"Fine. I promise I'll be careful- per usual." Rachel blushed. "Why do you have to get all mushy about it? I'm almost fifteen, _jeeze_."

When the night of the heist rolled around, Rachel couldn't help but feel absolutely ecstatic. It was her first job at it alone- and a pretty big one at that. After years of shadowing Catwoman, being unknown to the public eye, the job was going to be her breakout moment. Rachel knew she could be in and out without anyone even noticing- she had planned everything down to the color of her eye shadow to her three separate escape routes. No foreign mercenaries or grown men in bat suits (or boys in spandex) were going to stop her.

"I always knew I was destined for royalty." She said with a smirk. "Now all I need is a good crown."

0000

Vitor Vieira liked the simple things in life. Money, women, and the freedom to shoot things and get paid for it. When Mr. Keen offered his team a quarter million each to guard a bit of fancy jewelry, he knew he was in for a good time. Sure, the little _bastardo_ had had the nerve to spring the little fact that they were also to act like his perfect little bodyguards as well _after_ they had crossed the boarder, but it would be worth it.

Three days into the week long showing, and there hadn't so much as been a hiccup in security. He had expected more from the infamous, crime-ridden city of Gotham. That _cadela _Catwoman maybe, but apparently she hadn't been seen in a month or so- rumor said she was out of state. _Good, _Vitor thought, _I not in the mood to skin any cats._

Circling around his patrol on the second floor, he passed one of the Gotham officers on duty. He knew a corrupt cop when he saw one, and it didn't take a genius to figure out half of the city's force was being paid under the table by someone or another. Vitor might have found it funny if it weren't so pathetic.

It was right around one in the morning when something caught his ear. It had been soft, and if he had not been passing by the main service elevators at the time, he would not have caught it.

"Rats." He scoffed, putting away his pistol. "Disgusting."

Hearing the soft patter of fast moving feet, and suspecting vermin in the shaft, he tried to call up the elevator to force them out. Only the elevator wouldn't arrive. Five long, tense minutes passed before the foreign mercenary went for his radio.

"Someone check the main breakers in the basement." He said slowly, and in an eerie calm. Two minutes passed before someone replied.

"_We have a problem."_

"Let me guess. Someone cut power to the elevators, yes?"

A pause. _"Yes, sir."_

Vitor felt a slow grin grace his lips. "It seems we have an infestation on our hands, boys. We're going to do Gotham a favor and clear them out."

"_Should we alert Mr. Keen, sir?"_

"No," Vitor chuckled. "I'm sure we can handle a few rats."

0000

Some times the simplest solution to a problem is best solution. While there were much more expensive sprays out there that reveled laser systems, a simple aerosol can did the trick just as well.

The room displaying the Crown was a simple one. Square, with the Crown in the middle on a weight sensitive pedestal covered in a glass case. Several nondescript pieces covered the walls; paintings, sculptures, ect. After hacking into the cameras and replacing the video feed with a loop (_child's play_) Rachel had a two minute window to get in the room, get the Crown and get out before the patrolling guard noticed her. She licked her lips and held her breath before lightly spraying the air around her.

Dozens of red lines engulfed then once-empty room. Rachel took a deep breath, let it out, and went to work. She could do this. Selena wasn't here. She _could do this. _

The tight, form-fitting body suit she wore was made specifically for these sort of things. Black as night, the material was made from a material similar to Kevlar, but some strength was lost in order to make the stuff lighter and more flexible. Selena never told her who made it, or how much it cost. A trade secret, the older woman had called it. Putting that out of mind, Rachel went to work. Under and over, bending and stretching, she moved between the red lines. Some came close, threatening everything she had worked for. But she managed. Carefully, so carefully, she made her way to her prize. Standing before it, she checked her time.

_One minute._

Palms sweaty, she removed her tinted goggles and wiped her forehead. Carefully removing the glass, the Crown sparkled before her eyes.

"Come to kitty."

0000

"Move, you idiots! Boss said someone's in the museum!"

Meanwhile, the group of five mercenaries who had been guarding the third floor raced toward the Clear Creek Crown room. Their orders were to watch the Crown, while everyone else got to greet their guest. The best way to do this, or course, was to stand guard over the display room and nothing else. Disappointing, but no one was getting paid if the Crown went missing.

They turned a corner, and made their way to the room. One man did a quick once over of room.

Everything was just as they'd left it. The Crown was snug in its glass case, and nothing looked disturbed. With that in mind, they stationed each other outside the room and kept watch. Who knew? Maybe it had just been a false alarm.

0000

Rachel had never had that close a call.

Tightly tucked inside the display room's air duct, she let out a quiet sigh of relief. That had been _way_ too close.

Reattaching her goggles, she fingered the small dial on their side, flipping them to night vision mode. Navigating the tight duct was supposed to a last resort, but it looked like she had to choice. She had only vaguely memorized a way out through them, and it took her a half hour before she managed to escape outside. Kicking out the vent, she leaped onto a nearby roof and took in a huge breath of Gotham night air. Ah- crime, scum, and corruption, all in one lungful. No place like it.

"Yes!" She let out a whoop, a large grin fixing her features. "Yes, yes, yes! I did it!"

0000

In the days to follow, Solomon Keen would be arrested on charges of illegal dealings in several counties on the basis of evidence provided by Gotham's Dark Knight. In a later auction to sell his prized Crown, it would be revealed that the Jadeite gem that made the piece of valuable was nothing more than a worthless fake.

The day of that same auction, an unnamed dealer of black-market treasures would pay a hefty sun of twelve million dollars to a little girl for a chunk of pure, four carat green Jadeite.


End file.
